


Dear Fellow Traveler

by memelessness



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale is Ziraphon, Crowley is Corviel, Demon!Aziraphale, Other, Roleswap AU, angel!Crowley, reverse au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 06:47:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19785418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memelessness/pseuds/memelessness
Summary: A story in which the apocalypse is coming and a demon and an angel are pretending that everything is alright. RoleSwap AUCredit to Bfly1225 for creating, I'm just a god mother of these lovelies





	Dear Fellow Traveler

**Author's Note:**

> Title based off of Dear Fellow Traveler by Sea Wolf

It was a lovely afternoon in Soho, London. The streets were still painted from the settling storm, the smell of petrichor mingling in the air. Petrichor and cigarette smoke.

An angel sat primly on the dry bench just outside of the music shop, eyes darting back and forth between watch and far-stretching pavement. He ran his long fingers to his tightly wrapped bun, ensuring every auburn strand was in its proper place. 

Another check of the watch, then the walkway. He readjusted his tie awkwardly, not wanting to appear over pretentious. With a slow sigh, he began to tap his fingers to a song stuck in his head. It would have been better if he had stayed inside the shop to wait… but he had standards!

No, he was not being stood up. Not this time at least (nor has he ever in his entire existence, but Corviel wasn’t one to deny a possibility just because ‘it hadn’t happened yet.’). He was waiting for someone who purposefully liked to show up late, especially in the current era. 

A demon settled beside him (20 minutes late with a name-branded coffee), legs spreading wide as they leaned confidently into the bench. They wore a black blazer and the shortest pair of shorts any man had ever laid eyes on. Fishnets stretched over his extremities as black, knee-high boots (with wheelz in the heelz) gave their thighs even more emphasis.

“Yo what up, Fam?” They spoke merrily, holding the straw between their teeth as to not smudge the black that painted their plump lips.

Corviel furrowed his brow, trying his dam- best to fight the sudden wave of dopamine as he continued to face forward, “What is it you want, demon? You would not have called if it wasn’t important.” He wanted to sound annoyed. He wanted to prove to absolutely everyone watching (which was, in fact, no one) that Corviel, an angel of God, was not becoming buddy-buddy with a demon. But as a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, he just couldn’t bring himself to be mad at his old friend.

Ziraphon chuckled at the thought, watching a young couple pass, “Well, what I _want_ is for a local twink to rail me until I can no longer see straight… not to say I’m straight to begin with.”

“So you called me for a midday shag?” A joke, of course. Neither were really, truly interested. Well, Corviel considered the idea, a red tint warming his cheeks… but he knew the demon didn’t feel the same.

Said demon burst out laughing, holding his aviators in place before they could slide from his demonic gaze, “No one calls it ‘shagging’ anymore, Angel.” He watched his angel with a wide grin as they continued to face forward, “I’d like to think of it as more of a booty-call.” He enjoyed the joke while it lasted. He was really, truly interested… but he knew the angel didn’t feel the same.

“I’m serious.”

“I know.”

Ziraphon tapped their long, black, stiletto nails gently against their plastic cup, smile slowly beginning to falter (That’s not a good sign, Corviel probably would’ve thought had he actually been looking at the demon as they spoke), “I… delivered the antichrist…” He muttered quietly, looking away. 

This made Corviel snap his head over to the demon, watching as they managed to somehow keep a confident posture with their avoiding gaze. He opened his mouth to speak before closing it immediately. It wasn’t like this was never going to happen. In fact heaven kept a calendar to mark the day! He just hoped that maybe Hell had forgotten.

“O-oh.” Was all he could force from his lungs (of which he definitely did not need), placing a firm hand against the other’s back, “W-well I guess it was nice w-”

The demon quickly turned around, a heavy hand pressing against the other’s thigh, “Angel, we’re going to die.” It wasn’t his best opener, but it would have to do, “And high-key, I’ve never been this thirsty in all of 6,000 years.”

Corviel’s head moved slightly to his shoulder as confusion covered their face. Why did they suddenly need a drink? Was the coffee not enough? “Well, there is a bar just down the street.” He motioned in the direction, just wanting to be helpful.

Ziraphon would be lying if they said they weren’t just a little disappointed at that blatant attempt at getting into the angel’s pants (or, at the very least, trousers), “That sounds ra… good… That sounds good.” He stood up, about to drop the empty cup in the street before stopping themselves. He trudged over to the trash can, leading the way to the bar.

The angel quickly followed a couple steps behind, looking over the other’s shorts. The word ‘THICC’ was plastered against the demon’s ass in bright colors. Thicc isn’t bad, Corviel considered as he returned to Ziraphon’s side.

-

Ziraphon bust into the bar like the drama babe they were, immediately pointing to an empty, two-person table, “Bae, let’s go over there.” They looked over their shoulder, motioning for the angel to hurry up.

Corviel followed where they’d been pointing, a pleased tone escaping him. It was probably the best seats in the house; the perfect distance from the live band (not quite so close that it was deafening, but not far away that the sound becomes warbled). Had he not known otherwise, he would’ve thought the demon had picked it with more intention than ‘oh it’s what’s empty.’

They sat opposite from each other, the angel smiling happily at the drink menu as the dulcet tones of _live_ jazz resonated through him.

“What could I get started for you gentlemen, today?” A young lady approached them (no older than 20), a pad of paper in hand.

The demon smirked, contently watching the angel, “Yeah, I’d like a virgin between the sheets.” He ran his tongue over his teeth, keeping his legs crossed (he knew better than to play footsies with their ancient friend).

“You want… just straight lemon juice?” She spoke in an unsure manner. It hadn’t been the weirdest request she’d received today, but it was definitely up there.

“Oh, no.” They didn’t take their eyes off Corviel, placing their hands flat to the table, “Actually, could I have a _Screaming Orgasm_ , instead?” He spoke with a little more emphasis, trying their best to get the angel’s attention.

“You and me both.” She jotted it down quickly, turning to the other, “And for you, Sir?” She spoke with just a tinge more sincerity to the angel (quite possibly due to the natural ‘angelic peacefulness’ he seemed to constantly emit), maintaining eye contact.

“Oh, just a David Bowie for me.” He smiled back, eyes crinkling slightly to pronounce the vague crow’s feet at his eyes.

“I’ll have that ready in a jiffy!” She practically beamed, walking away.

Ziraphon didn’t like that at all, lifting their chin and widening their shoulders. No one was going to take his angel without fighting them first.

“Did you know there’s a drink called ‘Sex on the Beach?’” 

The man-shaped peacock was pulled out of their trance, blinking slowly at the angel that was looking his way. Was this it? Were they finally flirting? “That sounds fun.” Their smile grew wider as their nails clacked against the table.

Corviel chuckled under his breath, propping his head up with one arm, “I dunno. Sounds pretty unsanitary to me, what with the sand going… well everywhere.” He made a motion through the air with his vacant hand, “Not to mention all the people that go to the beach every day.”

Oh dear _Satan_ , they were flirting! “Not with a towel!” The demon ghosted a tongue over his lips, trying to keep his heart from bursting out from their vessel, “The sand I mean… And if the perverts wanna watch, I say let them!”

The angel scrunched his nose slightly, as if genuinely considering it, “Even with a towel, it sounds more like a hassle than anything.” He looked briefly over his shoulder, as if realizing something, “Wait, did she say jiffy? When was the last time you heard anyone say that?” He continued to smile, grasping at straws to keep the conversation going… without bringing up the impending apocalypse, of course.

And with that, Ziraphon felt his heart shrink into a pit that now settled in his stomach. Of course they weren’t flirting. It was just another joke, “Too long, I guess.” He tried not to sound so empty, puffing out their chest once more.

This hadn’t gone unnoticed, but what was an angel to do when their demon companion (which they were never supposed to have in the first place) suddenly decides to assert their dominance across an entire bar?

“Aziraphon, are you alright?” Corviel spoke softly, placing a gentle hand over the other’s.

“Alright, fellas, here’s those drinks.” The waitress return, placing each drink in their respective places, a hand waiting beside Corviel’s drink, “Is there anything else I could get you?” She continued to smile, making eye contact with the angel… Was she flirting? With him? Now he didn’t want to sound insulting, so he tried not to laugh, but he glanced over to Ziraphon with a smile that said ‘how funny is this?’

The demon wasn’t all too pleased, arm hairs standing on edge to mimic his former plumage. The angel watched closely, watching how they broadened their shoulders, how their chin was raised, how their eyes were angrily focused on the young waitress. They weren’t… jealous… were they?

“No.” He turned to the woman, a deadpanned tone in his voice as he grabbed the other’s hand, fingers carefully intertwining, “I think we’re good.”

Her wide smile faltered ever so slightly as she noticed the hands, “O-oh. Well let me know if there’s anything else, then. I’ll be around.” She spoke in a flustered tone, immediately walking away to mentally kick herself for not noticing sooner. They were definitely gay for each other.

Ziraphon looked down in shock, gently running a thumb over the back of his angel’s hand. They quickly stopped after a brief second, unsure of himself. If he gave it too much attention, would Corviel just pull away? All he wanted to do was pull the angel closer… to hold them tightly in his arms and never let go. Was that too much to ask?

But he was a demon… and they were an angel. Heaven would punish them, and he didn’t want to do anything against the angel’s terms. If anyone should be cast from heaven, it should be on their own terms, not the terms of a demon.

“Music’s nice, today.” Corviel spoke proudly, fingers slowly beginning to separate as he began his night (or rather midday) of drinking.

Ziraphon watched quietly as their hands separated, the fading electricity stretching outward like a plasma globe, “Yeah, it is.” They didn’t want to let go yet, reaching out slightly before retreating his own hand to their drink, “I-it’s a good bop.” He tried to play it cool, circling a straw around the rim of their drink, “Something you could dance to.”

This made the angel smile, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Corviel loved to dance! He’d been dancing alongside humans ever since the concept had been invented! He knew probably every dance (before the early 2000’s) by heart, and he’d dance along to the speakers as they played loudly in the shop. 

Now this doesn't mean he’d been particularly good (aside from the waltz… and maybe the cha cha slide. The latter depended on who you asked), but the angel had the perfect knack to dance as if absolutely nobody was watching (and most of the time he truly believed no one was, in fact, watching). It was one of the many things Ziraphon had grown to love about his angelic companion.

\--

After a few drinks, and the eventual cut off from the waitress, Ziraphon had found the strongest of swagger.

“Dance with me, Angel.” It wasn’t a question, but rather more of a demand as he stood tall, hand outstretched to their better half.

“I… ‘sszziraphon, ‘m too drunk for that.” Corviel spoke behind a fit of giggles, sinking further into his seat.

“Angel, ‘sokie. Just one Balboa? You can’t listen to Cavernism without a Bal.”

This seemed to hit all of the angel’s buzz words as he forced himself to stand. He eagerly took the demon’s hand, pulling them close as he quickly remembered the foot work (despite it being in the middle of the piece).

They used to dance like this together all the time in the early 20th century (Ziraphon still kept the flapper dress). But after half a century without practice, the demon found the foot placement a tad too difficult. Why had he suggested a Bal? He kept looking down, ensuring that they didn’t come close to nearly stepping on the other’s feet.

After a couple missteps, the angel started dancing in half-time (“It would be blasphemous to do a Balboa in half-time!” He’s said some years before, “It’s written as it is for a reason!”), spinning the demon carefully around with a wobble in his step. The alcohol had been kicking in for them both.

It took everything they had for the demon not to lean into the other’s chest. He wanted nothing more than to feel their heartbeat (despite neither of them needing one), and relish at how their ribs would rise and fall as they breathed.

“Corviel I-” He bit his tongue as he felt his feet slide away from him, forgetting that heelies do in fact have wheelies. He slammed his eyes shut, preparing for the impact that never came.

When he opened his eyes once more, he saw his angel mere inches away from his face, a hand firmly at their back was all that kept them from collapsing.

“Yes, Aziraphon?” Corviel obliviously went to continue the conversation, helping the other stand back upright. The distance still had yet to break.

Ziriphon stood quietly, mouth open slightly as he tried to find the words. A couple tried to stammer out, but none of them were comprehensible. He never knew if it had been the alcohol, or the imminent fear of the approaching apocalypse, but the demon had done the completely unthinkable at that moment.

He cupped the angel’s face in both hands, watching as they leaned into the touch. They were both speechless, and absolutely wasted while they were at it.

The demon watched for a moment, as if waiting for the same permission they’d been so loyal to for the past 6,000 years. Eventually he leaned in, noses pressing together as hot breaths filled the space between then. He was hesitant, unsure if maybe they were picking up on the wrong signals.

Corviel seized the moment just before they could pull away, running his long fingers through the softest curls he’d ever had the blessing of meeting. The space was sealed with a tender kiss (Corviel didn’t realize that the demon could be so... soft), hands (from both parties) wandering as they tried to find a place to settle. And when they pulled away, the angel pressed his forehead against the shorter’s, noses briefly ghosting over each other.

“Why don’t we continue this at the shop?” Corviel spoke in a hushed tone before pulling away to pay the tab.

It was a common misconception that demons don’t blush. This was a lie created by the church. Yes, demons did not blush or get flustered in any way when they were tempting, and even more rarely seducing, some random person. They did blush, however, when their 6000 year slowburn has finally come to fruition. He could feel his pupils become giant from behind his glasses, the red flushing into the tips of his ears and making them nearly sweat (had they been 100% absolutely human, they would’ve).

And now it was Corviel’s turn to be the tempter, whether they knew it or not. So he took his demon by the hand and began running toward the music store. Neither of them wanted to miss their chance.

\--

The angel fumbled with his keys, fully forgetting he was an ethereal being who can open doors with the snap.

“Out of the way, you hot piece of ass.” Ziraphon pushed past, waving his hand as the doors swung open. He strut with style, overly swaying his hips with every step.

Kiss Me Like Your French Girls Corviel read the words a few times. It was new for sure, and hard to decipher the exact mood the demon had been in (though he’d already known by now). 

“Like what you see, Angel?” Ziraphon was looking over their shoulder, demonic grin plastered to their face as he licked his lips. He’d already taken off his sunglasses, the blues barely showing through the dark space.

The angel followed, quickly locking the door and closing the blinds. He marched over with a gulp. It had to have been the alcohol, or maybe even the impending apocalypse, or perhaps even some grandiose mixture of both, but right now Corviel had the demon pinned to a display shelf, leaning closer.

They continued where they left off, exchanging gasps of hot air between the smacking of lips. Ziraphon reached up, deftly pulling the angel’s bun apart as the long strands of auburn fell all at once. He pulled away to look to the man-shaped being he adored, noticing how the flickering emergency lights almost resembled a halo. They leaned forward once more, running his tongue against their neck as they skillfully unbuttoned the other’s shirt.

Corviel leaned forward with bated breath, readjusting himself so the demon could reach whatever they wanted. 6,000 years he’d longed for this day. This was real! 

… this was real…

As the demon began to tug at his belt, he pulled away, grabbing their wrists. This was _real_. He wanted nothing more than this, so why?

“You don’t want to.” Ziraphon spoke matter-of-factly, basking in the glory that was their angel. 

I don’t love you the angel wanted to say, as a reminder that this was the demon’s doing. They were hereditary enemies, after all, “I… what if I fall?” He spoke quietly, voice trembling at the idea. He wanted nothing more than this, but… what would he end up losing?

The demon smiled softly, pressing a gentle hand to the taller form before them, “If you fall, I’d be there to catch you.” He spoke fondly, slowly buttoning the shirt back up, “But I understand. You don’t want the risk. I can wait.” They cupped their hands against the other’s cheek, retreating as soon as he saw the tears begin to form. He settled for a distant adoration, smiling at their work as the black lipstick had smeared everywhere.

Corviel tried desperately to wipe the tears before they even had the opportunity to fall, taking a deep breath to keep more from forming. It was a response he hadn’t expected… so was the feeling really just another temptation? It had to be real, right? He carefully watched over the look of sincerity, smiling a soft response.

“Thank you.” The words were beyond quiet. Had they been human, they wouldn’t have known it existed.


End file.
